


Linguistics

by GoBobe



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Enoch's POV, M/M, and enoch is a shy little schoolgirl with the biggest crush on his neighbor, graphic depictions of hugging ahead, in which Beast is really bothered that he isn't good at something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoBobe/pseuds/GoBobe
Summary: Enoch, Maypole Chairman of the Pottsfield Chamber of Commerce, wants to do... certain things with The Wicked, Soul Eating Beast of the Unknown. Touchy things, like hugging and dancing. Things that The Beast almost certainly would refuse at the suggestion.One night however during one of their regular discussions, the subject of native languages comes up. An idea worms it's way into his mind and this might end up being Enoch's golden opportunity.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IncurableNecromantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurableNecromantic/gifts).



> First fic I ever posted on this website. Did some stuff on FF back in the day, but those days and those ships are long since gone.
> 
> No beta reader, so please feel free to point out any stupid spelling or grammar errors I missed in my read-overs. 
> 
> Critiques, comments, and suggestions are more than welcome! Seriously. I'm a nit-picker. I don't mind. 
> 
> Oh, and big thanks to IncurableNecromantic who basically set sail and captained this oddly compelling ship and helped me personally with my underconfidence in posting anything I write.  
> Seriously, they're great. If this happens to be the first Beastnoch fic you read, HOOOOOO boy have they got a surprise for you! 
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoy.

This honestly should've come as less of a shock to me when I first discovered it. After a few moments of deliberation however, it seemed like a rather obvious turn of events. Considering how quiet, pensive, clever, and... _alone_ The Beast was, all that time to himself would've obviously made him an excellent partner for intelligent conversation. And considering how similar we are in terms of our states of existence, questions like these were bound to come up sooner or later.

The only thing The Beast and I had discussed for a long while was simple border disputes. He would very eloquently explain the intense necessity of his vast acreage for his edelwoods. I, on the other ribbon, would very enthusiastically explain my town's little holidays and our need for homes and fields for our crops. I endlessly enjoyed those many hours on the borders of his woods discussing precise areas, the importance of a single tree versus a single corn stalk, and many other trivial things he seemed so uptight about.

Very slowly however, things started to change. The conversations The Beast and I would engage in became less and less about borders, and more and more about other things. The nature of existence, our origins, the purpose of others, and other equally trivial things were discussed ad nauseum. I can't quite be sure of what The Beast himself found so interesting about our little chats, seeing as how much of a loner he once was. However, so long as he needed someone to bounce ideas off of, I nearly always made the time to be there for him.

Truth be told, there's more to Beast's charms than just his amazing intellect. He had many other endearing qualities, unbeknownst to himself. This list goes on and on, but to name a few, his aesthetic charm is a good start. How he looks so artfully at home surrounded by his groves. His sharp wit, another, of which I've made a fool of myself falling into logical traps of his on many occasions. And, of course, his auditory, vocal, and musical charms for which he is very well known throughout The Unknown.

That last particular topic happened to be what sparked our present conversation about language and it's various uses pertaining to The Beast's victims.

"...Is English really the only language you sing in? I've heard of you luring Latino and German souls into your forests before, so you must've been able to communicate with them. Yet whenever I hear you in the night, I always hear English. Is that deliberate?"

I heard The Beast give a very low, almost inaudible chuckle, "So, you've finally noticed one of my favorite gifts."

"Care to explain, Hope-Eater?"

"With pleasure, Harvest King. Mortal souls are easy enough to manipulate. Especially mortal senses. With the aid of my trees, I can bend them into hearing whatever I wish them to hear. I have perfectly replicated the crying of a lost little girl, the rhythmic steps of a spanish dancer, and even the animal noises of a recently deceased pet to keep my seeds in my forest."

I hummed, "Very interesting, Beast. You still have yet to answer my question, though."

The Beast looked up at me with a disappointed tinge to those headlight eyes of his, "Harvest King, I thought you less daft than this. I already told you I control every noise I make. Of course, you hearing my singing in English is deliberate."

I conceded his point before he went on about the specifics of his false auditory realities. I got to wondering however about why he chose for me to hear his songs in English. I, too, know more than just one mortal language. Did he sing in English to me because this was the only language he heard me speak in previously? Or was it due to familiarity with it on his part? As soon as he finished, I asked a question to that end.

"Very impressive, Hope-Eater. So, is English your first language, then?"

The Beast Raised one long black finger to answer me, right before he slowly retracted it and gently pushed it onto what I can only assume is his chin. It's not often I can make him think so hard, so I watched him and mentally "patted myself on the back" (a phrase I've heard mortals say) while he thought the question through.

The Beast didn't look at me as he answered, "No. It isn't. Furthermore, I'm honestly not sure what my first language actually was."

"That's rather queer," I commented. "Do you currently know a language that you feel most comfortable speaking in?"

The Beast finally looked up at me, "No, I don't know a language I feel comfortable speaking i-"

The Beast stopped in the middle of his last word as I watched the realization hit him. I was curious as to what he figured out, but I knew it'd be more polite to wait for him to gather his thoughts before asking for an answer.

The Beast pointed at me, "That's it, Enoch! I don't have a language I'm comfortable _speaking_ in."

"Hope Eater, are you suggesting-"

"My first language is nonverbal."

We stood there, across the fence from each other for a while, taking in the meaning of that realization. I nearly froze when I realized I remembered my own first language as The Beast saw right through the purpose of my inquiry.

"...Is your first language not English as well, Harvest King? Would you rather hear... something else from my forests?"

I looked, solemnly at Beast, ribbons stiff and somewhat quivering in the light, midnight breeze.

"I cannot."

"Harvest King..."

"Mine is also... nonverbal."

I felt guilty, as I stood there, watching him in the moonlight. There is little I appreciate more in this world more than Beast's hypnotic, lovely singing. He even just asked me if I had a request of him. Never has he asked a question so personal and thoughtful of me. Yet there I stood, unable to accept his sudden generosity.

The Beast stepped closer to me. I snapped to attention as he silently glided to my immediate front across the fence. He seemed... curious as he gazed up at me with those otherworldly eyes.

"Harvest King... What troubles you?" Such a tender question. Considering Beast's cruel methods of getting sustenance, I never thought he'd ever say such a thing. But then again, an emotional tormenter should know emotions quite well.

"Oh, Hope-Eater, you don't know how utterly flattered I am that you offered me a request of your talents. But the language I know best is..," I lifted up three or so ribbons to look down at and sighed, "tactile."

The Beast tilted his head at me, "A simple, 'no, I'm just fine with English' would've sufficed, Harvest King."

"O-oh. Right..," I stammered. "My thoughts just got ahead of me, Hope Eater. Forgive me."

He stood there contemplating me as my thoughts swam. I did have a request for him, in all honesty. But The Wicked, Soul Eating Beast of the Unknown is not an earthly creature, and nor was he born of one. So, I just recoiled in on myself, stamping out any remaining flames of my inane fantasies.

In order to get those prying, gorgeous eyes off of me, I stammered out another question, "S-so, what is your first language then, Beast? I'm honestly surprised it's not verbal, considering your mastery in that field."

The Beast finally tore his eyes off my husk of a soul and answered me in earnest.

"Olfactory, believe it or not."'

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly," said The Beast. "I've existed as long as my prey has. However, my prey has... changed over the eons. Evolved. Their origins didn't involve language. They were but dumb animals at the dawn of my existence. Without need of language to enslave them, my best, and most subtle method of tracking and luring my prey was scent. Reading it, speaking it, learning it. To this day, I can still smell the emotions of any mortal creature, almost down to reading their thoughts. It's what I know best."

Ah. So that's why he so easily picked up on my disappointment. I am not mortal however, which makes me wonder to what extent that skill works on me. Perhaps, my previous flights of my fantasy weren't as out of my reach as once thought... I considered my next words very carefully.

"Truly, fascinating, Hope Eater," I said. "This really is a revelation between us. I do hope that whatever you've smelled in Pottsfield hasn't caused you any unintended offense."

The Beast shook his head, "Of course not. Your town doesn't possess the rich and delicious smells of souls or hope, but it does always emanate the rich and thick molasses smell of contentedness. Overwhelmingly so during harvest time. Unbearably so in your barn."

Ah, good. That's a comforting thought. Now all that's left is to see if he'll return my courtesy...

"Have I... ever done something that caused you offense, Harvest King? It's a rather foreign concept to not have total mastery of the language of another."

Yes. He took the bait.

"No, no, nothing of the sort. In fact, since I never touch you, nor does it seem you have the ability to touch anything other than your lantern, it's rather hard for me to read you at all. I believe the mortal equivalent would be like trying to talk to someone who doesn't move their eyebrows."

The Beast hummed pensively. Wonderful. This is exactly where I hoped this would go. I was deep in deliberation over whether or not I should present my request when I felt something unnaturally cold brush one of my ribbons. I jerked away instinctively to find Beast tentatively reaching towards where one of my ribbons once laid on the fence.

"O-oh, my humblest apologies, Harvest King!" The Beast withdrew. "I was just... I-I was immensely bothered by the fact that I apparently no longer have mastery of all languages and I just wanted to-"

I immediately reached out and took one of The Beast's hands tenderly between my ribbons. I had to suppress a shiver traveling up my form from holding something so utterly cold. The Beast did not withdraw, and he looked up at me as I held his hand so gingerly in the moonlight.

"E-Enoch..."

"Oh, Beast," I beamed at the use of my name. "I would be more than happy to teach you my tactile methods. I was only startled by your sudden initiative, is all."

And there he went again, shining those unreal, perfect eyes right into what could count as my soul. I felt him as he very experimentally touched me back. His smooth, wooden, and icy hands, carefully explored my corn silk appendages. I memorized every divot, splinter, and hole I could find in his palm.

"I would like that..," The Beast nearly whispered.

Well. I guess it's now or never.

"Dance with me, Beast?"

Silence.

"...What?"

Silence.

"Your... gorgeous baritones could only be more perfect if you'd permit me the honor, no... the _privilege_ of showing you my most natural form of gratitude and rhythm."

I lowered my head to meet his eyes, "Please? Dance with me, Beast."

The Beast stared at me with some unreadable expression. I felt so tense. Never in my time of knowing The Beast had I ever thought I'd be able to enact my favorite fantasy of him. With him! I held his hand close to me as he deliberated.

Then he took his hand back.

"Oh..."

I shrunk back and looked at the ground.

I guess it was too much to ask of him.

His movements are so impossibly smooth and quiet that I had no notion of him moving over the fence until he was right below me, looking up at me with those beautiful eyes and curiously grabbing at my ribbons with both hands.

"Enoch. Let it never be said that The Beast of the Unknown would ever pass up the opportunity to learn a useful, new skill."

I swear I heard a smile somewhere in that thick, honeyed voice of his.

In less than a moment I had unconsciously trapped him in an all encompassing hug. I was so happy to have him accept. So much so in fact that I didn't even notice him quivering helplessly in my grasp until I had looked down to see his reaction.

I quickly let go, "Oh, heh, My apologies, Beast."

The Beast jumped away from me and appeared to be shakily dusting himself off.

"T-that's... alright, Enoch... J-just... warn me next time you do... whatever that was..."

Oh my sweet cinnamon and butterscotch pie, he sounded so much more delectable when he was flustered!

I laughed, "Of course! Of course, Beast! Do you still want to dance with me?"

The Beast finally seemed to relax a bit and he carefully shook his head at me, "Yes, but another night I'm afraid. I'm quite sure I've had my fill of..."

I caught him staring at my ribbons.

"...linguistics lessons today."

I chuckled, "Quite understandable from your point of view, neighbor!"

"... Indeed."

The rest of that night was spent discussing The Beast's exquisite sense of smell and his strange ability to control whatever noises were inside his forest.

I moved the few steps with him back over the fence and a few feet inside of his forest to see him off. I was quite happy to wave him off back into his trees come the imminent sunrise, but again, his initiative surprised me.

"Oof!" I instinctively gasped as I felt something ram roughly into me.

The Beast had shoved himself for just a moment into my grasps despite his obvious reservations. He yanked himself out again right at the moment I had realized what he did as he slinked swiftly and silently back into his forest. I grinned as best I could and waved after his shadow.

* * *

 

For the next few nights, the people of Pottsfield heard unusually upbeat English songs from somewhere in The Dark Forests of The Unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure you remember to put your critiques, comments, and suggestions in a comment for me! Amazing human beings post comments, and there is NO DOUBT in my mind that _YOU_ are an amazing human being. *Loud Wink*
> 
> I hope the time in which you are awake is pleasant and fulfilling. Thank you for reading. 
> 
> :)


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